Of Fever, Fierceness, and Fiery Heirs
by That Fantasy Junkie 96
Summary: Set in the year TA 2894, 47 years before the Quest. In Ered Luin, a terrible fever begins to strike mercilessly on dwarves. The fever hits close to home for Thorin Oakenshield when a young Kíli is afflicted. Faced with no known cure and running out of time, it may be only a determined Fíli who holds the wisdom to stop the illness. Slight AU, dwarf angst, Fíli stubbornness.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I used the formula for dwarf age conversion (very helpful, I highly recommend it) and have the following ages:**

**Fíli is 35 in dwarf years which translates to about 17. ****Kíli is 30 in dwarf years which is about 15. Doubling the age only works for adolescent dwarf years so please look up the formula for any age past 40. **

**This would make Thorin 148 technically, which is 46ish, but that's not really relevant due to that lack of aging for dwarves in those years. Regardless, I hope you enjoy my first multi-chaptered Tolkien fanfiction! I have four chapters written and ready to go, so if you like this, I can update in a jiffy! :D  
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Fíli, son of Dís; heir of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the last King under the Mountain, was not a dwarf for awkward situations, especially during supper. What should've have been a nice time for him to talk to his mother and uncle was spent with their identical blue eyes shifting to the front door every minute or so.

There was complete silence. This was the third night in a row that his brother Kíli was late coming home.

His mother, Dís, would let his Uncle Thorin do most of the punishing, as it was he who thought it a big deal. Thorin glanced once more and his younger sister could not handle the silence. "For Mahal's sake, Thorin, he is only 30 years old. Sometimes he loses track of time."

Thorin dropped his wooden spoon into the bowl of steaming stew and raised an eyebrow. "This is acceptable to you?" he asked and motioned to Fíli. "I do not remember Fíli acting the same way at that age."

_Please leave me out of this, _Fíli thought grimly.

"Fíli has never been late, not one night, Dís."

"I do not particularly enjoy it either," she snapped back. "But it's not something to punish him so harshly for. Kíli takes after his father, therefore it is not my son that I blame for being irresponsible."

"Yes, he _is_ his father's son," Thorin pointed out. "That is why I worry."

Fíli saw his mother's cheeks flush red. Hardly a dent had been made in her stew, but she stood up and left the table anyway. "I am tired," she stated. "Fíli?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Would you wake me when Kíli comes home?"

Fíli smiled. "Of course." He really wished that his mother had not left the table so soon. He hated being alone with his uncle when he was in one of his 'moods'. However, he knew that retreating to his room would only make matters worse. He knew it was only a matter of when, not if, before Thorin would start to complain about-

"What are we going to do with your brother?"

Fíli sighed and listened to the rain outside the window. It was getting heavier and his annoyance at Kíli was slowly changing to worry. "I have never known what to do with him. You should not fret over it, Uncle. Kíli is wild by nature." That was the truth.

Fíli enjoyed being a child, of course, but his brother enjoyed it to a point of staying a child. Every time he came home late or did something extremely unintelligent, it wasn't to defy anyone, it was because he really had no grip on consequences.

However, from a very early age Fíli felt the pressures of being the heir to his uncle. It was apparent that Thorin was not going to have children of his own, and when Fíli had turned 20, his uncle began talking to him about Erebor. He mentioned Erebor to Kíli as well, but there was always something different in his tone of voice when he talked to his eldest nephew about the ancient kingdom.

"He's growing lazy," Thorin commented quietly as he pushed his finished bowl of stew aside.

"_Growing_ lazy?" Fíli asked with a laugh, hoping his uncle would join in. He didn't.

"I am very thankful that you heed the word of me and your mother, that you do not deliberately try to put us into an early grave."

"I can talk to him when he gets home," Fíli offered, but Thorin shook his head.

"No, I will speak to him. This kind of behavior has to stop soon." Not soon after that, the door opened and Fíli was relieved to see his little brother step through, trailing rain and mud in with him. Kíli was soaking wet and usually would've walked through the door while rapidly spitting out some sort of excuse as to why he was late, but he just walked past the table and barely made eye contact with either of them.

That was strange. "Kee?" Fíli asked out of concern, but Thorin stood in his youngest nephew's way with dissatisfied arms crossed.

"Where have you been?" he asked sternly, but patiently.

Kíli dropped his outside cloak carelessly on the floor and did not get the hint as he avoided Thorin and headed toward his room. "Sorry," he muttered. "The rain...didn't know how late it was."

"Mmhmm," his uncle replied. "You're not going to bed yet. You're going to tell me the truth."

"Tired," Kíli said sluggishly, completely ignoring Thorin. Fíli stood and began to walk over.

"I don't care if you're tired," Thorin said. "I want an explanation."

"Tired..." the young dwarf repeated and kept walking. Thorin caught him by the wrist.

"Do not walk away from-"

"Tired." Without another word, Fíli saw his brother's dark eyes close and then he collapsed. Luckily before a head injury occurred, Thorin caught him.

"Kíli!" they exclaimed in unison and Fíli rushed over. Thorin knelt down with Kíli and rested his nephew's head on one of his knees. A hurried hand touched his forehead and cheeks and came back soaked in rain water and sweat.

"He's burning up," Thorin mumbled. "Dís!" he called and she appeared quite suddenly due to her brother's unusually frantic yelp.

"What's wro-? Kíli!" She covered her mouth in horror at the sight of her youngest. "What happened?"

"He just collapsed," Thorin said helplessly. "He's so warm...I don't know-"

"Get him in bed!" she finished Thorin's thought.

Fíli's room was the nearest and his uncle pushed open the door with his foot and laid his little brother on the bed. "What's wrong with him?" Fíli cried and looked desperately to his mother.

"I can't say, darling. Go fetch a cloth and a bowl of cold water!"

Fíli didn't need to be told twice and he returned in seconds. His mother grabbed the cloth soaked in chilled water and placed it on Kíli's forehead in an attempt to get him to wake. "Kíli, honey? It's Mother. You're safe. Can you wake up, sweetheart? Wake up, Kíli."

Thorin saw the worry in Fíli's eyes and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He'll be fine," he whispered. Slowly, Kíli's eyes flitted open and they darted around the room in confusion.

"Mother?" he croaked.

"Right here," she said with a forced smile. Kíli spotted Thorin because he was taller than Fíli, but he had a hard time locating his big brother.

"Where's Fee?"

Fíli gripped one of his brother's warm, clammy hands to show him that he was still there. "I'm here, Kee," he said firmly.

"He has some kind of fever," Dís said. "A bad one. Fíli, listen to me. I need you to run and find Óin. He'll know more about this than me. Thorin, go with him."

"What if you need help-?" he began, but Dís cut him off.

"Go with Fíli! I can handle it for now."

Thorin pulled on Fíli's arm with determination. "C'mon!"

"Where are you going?" Kíli called out in a daze.

"Don't worry, Kee," Fíli replied. "Mother's here, we'll be right back. Just hold on."

Not bothering to put on any kind of outdoor cloak to shield himself from the driving rain, Fíli burst out of their house with his uncle to find Óin.

_Kíli will be just fine_, he told himself. _He has to be._

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**Hope you enjoyed! Can I get a review? C'mon, share the love.**_  
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	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you for reading the first chapter and not despising it by moving onto the second one! I'm sorry if this one is a bit slow, but I need to put some background into my story. **

**Gimli is 15 at this time, which is around 7 or 8 in our years.  
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"What do you mean, you don't know what this is?" Thorin muttered furiously inside the house of Óin. Fíli felt an awful pit in his stomach at the other dwarf's answer.

"I do not know what it is," Óin repeated firmly. "I have ten sick children in here, one of whom is my young nephew, Gimli. He is a dwarfling of fifteen, Thorin, so do not be so quick to condemn me. I want an answer as badly as you do."

"Gimli is sick as well?" Fíli asked with shock. "Ten children?" The same Gimli that he and Kíli helped to be a little soldier while his father was working? The same Gimli that would eventually get impatient and would be content with smacking him and his brother with his practice sword? Stubborn, belligerent, unyielding Gimli?

"Seems like it's eleven now, with young Kíli," said Óin. "And that is not counting the adults that I hear are sick, too. My little brother is begging me for an answer and I do not have one. Do you know what that is like, my dear friend?" he asked Thorin.

"Yes," Thorin replied without thought. Fíli's mind then went to Frerin. The brother of his mother and uncle, the brother they rarely mentioned.

"Then you should know that I will do anything for Glóin, and little Gimli, and I do not have time for foolish questions such as yours!"

Fíli knew that ordinarily Óin would speak to his uncle with more respect, but upon seeing the bags under the older dwarf's eyes, he knew that Óin had to be frustrated and exhausted with taking care of all of the sick, and the last thing on his tuckered mind was pleasing Thorin.

"Do _not _make the mistake in thinking that I do not care for Kíli's health," he said. "You seem to have forgotten that it was _I_ who pulled the lad through his first fever, but I have other children to deal with as well, one of them my close kin!"

"Then what am I to do?" Thorin asked boldly.

In a calmer voice, Óin spoke. "We are taking the children to the only healing house in Ered Luin, to get help from more experienced hands. I suggest you do the same with Kíli."

"He is in no condition to move, he needs someone to come to our home."

"None of them are in the proper condition, but what choice do we have?" Óin asked. "I cannot prioritize anyone, Thorin. Not even Kíli...not even Gimli. There are too many sick."

"But we are your kin, too," Thorin protested.

"I know. And the same will be done with my own nephew. We're moving them in the morning."

"Óin," the distant voice of Glóin called. It seemed to be coming from one of the bedrooms in the back of the home.

"On my way," Óin replied and Thorin put a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it, Óin?" he asked. He wanted answers. He wanted to know why his youngest sister-son was too weak to stand, too weak to stay conscious at times.

Óin sighed. "I do not know. It is a fever for sure, but this is much different than anything I have experienced. My hands are tied."

"Has anyone...d-" Fíli swallowed thickly and tried again. "passed?"

Óin shook his head somberly. "One lad around Kíli's age did. He made it about three weeks before the fever won. Another, a little lass of thirteen. _Thirteen_, Thorin. So young, such a future ahead of her, and I could do nothing. She lasted about the same time. One lad pulled through, but just the one."

"This has been happening for weeks then?" Fíli said in shock. "Why have we not heard of it?" he demanded.

"Those three were the first to get sick, laddie. When one out of them made it through, we figured it was a terrible, but typical fever. That is...until now. Eleven children sick in two days, and possibly many more. I do not know what is going to happen."

"Óin!" Glóin called again.

"I must check on Gimli."

"May I come in as well?" Fíli asked suddenly.

"Why?" Óin and Thorin asked together.

"He is my kin, no? Distantly, yes, but still family. I would like to see him."

"I will not have you get sick as well, Fíli," Thorin said firmly. "That is the last thing your mother needs."

"We could all get sick, Uncle. That does not mean that we abandon those who are ill out of fear." Thorin raised his eyebrows at his nephew's comment. If they weren't inside a home, with many sick and miserable dwarves, then he might not have put much thought into throwing Fíli over his shoulder and solving any debates of staying at Óin's home.

Óin smiled, in spite of the severity of the situation. "You can go in, but be careful." He snorted. "Stubborn lad, eh?"

"He gets _that_ from his mother," Thorin muttered. He and Fíli followed Óin into what was most likely his room. On a bed, there was little Gimli, and there were two more children who occupied mattresses on the floor, their mothers and fathers close to them.

The young, chestnut-haired dwarfling was clearly feeling and showing the effects of the fever. He was sweaty, shaky, eyes focusing on nothing and everything in a semi-conscious haze.

An older dwarf with the same shade of hair sat in a wooden chair, his hand in Gimli's. It was Glóin. He was whispering sweet nothings to his child when he caught sight of the three new additions to the room.

There was his elder brother, Óin, still looking miserable with lack of sleep, but showing no signs of wanting to rest. Thorin Oakenshield entered with young Fíli, the golden-haired lad wore a worried expression, but stood as strongly as his uncle.

Glóin ran a hand over Gimli's forehead. "He's warmer, Óin. What shall we do?"

"A cool cloth for now," he replied, handing it to his brother.

Glóin looked to Thorin and Fíli and managed a small smile. "Hello, lads. Where is Kíli?" he asked, knowing that the pair were rarely seen around Ered Luin without the charming and fiery, dark-haired dwarfling.

Thorin sighed, but Fíli answered. "He is sick as well." He hardly knew that he could say it without choking up, but he got it out nonetheless.

_I should've done something,_ Fíli thought. _He wouldn't be ill if I had been paying better attention._

"Mahal, help us," Glóin said with acid in his voice, cursing whatever was responsible for the horrible ailment. "When this fever has hold of one as fearless as your brother, it is time to worry."

"Indeed," Fíli answered, the cracks in his voice were now noticeable as he thought more and more of his brother. His brother who was lying hopelessly in bed, confused, scared, and probably asking for him at this point. "We should go soon, Uncle. Mother will need help."

"F-Fíli?" they heard Gimli call out. Fíli looked to Glóin for permission to come over and the older dwarf nodded.

"He has been talking all night about missing his training with you and Kíli. He loves it so."

Fíli came over and put on a small smile, one that the dwarfling needed to see. "Hello, Gimli. Feeling a bit under the weather?"

"Training...we have to practice...tomorrow. Am I...too s-sick?"

"No worries," Fíli said. "We can practice whenever you feel up to it."

"Promise you won't...forget?"

Fíli took a sharp breath in. "Promise. As soon as you're...better, we can train. Us and Kíli."

"When will I be better?"

Fíli looked wide-eyed to Glóin, not wanting to answer this question.

"Soon, laddie," Óin assured him. "I will make you all better."

"Gimli, I have to get back to Kíli now. You understand that, right? My little brother needs me."

"Is he sick t-too?" Gimli asked.

"...Yes." He felt like screaming. He felt like shaking Óin until he found of what was wrong with Kíli. He wanted to scour Middle-earth for anything, anyone that could help. He wanted his father, he would've known what to do.

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**I promise that the next chapter will have Kíli in it. I'm sure you're all concerned for him. Reviews = Smiles**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I really don't like to whine about reviews, but for a budding author the process is something like this: If I have a small amount of reviews, newcomers won't think it's any good. If newcomers don't think it's any good, they won't read it. If people don't read it, I get discouraged. And if I get discouraged, I cry and this story will suffer. This is not a threat or anything, but could I know how I am doing? :)**

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Within two more days, the total number of sick was 46; 32 children and 14 adults. Thorin Oakenshield divided his time with taking care of Kíli, who was increasingly more distraught, and trying his best to calm the dwarves of the Blue Mountains.

They were growing angrier and angrier as more of their kin were falling ill. Outraged parents blamed Thorin for the state of their dwarflings, and the dwarf healers could do little to help the sick. They knew not what the sickness was, nor how it spread, how it could be prevented, and most importantly, they knew not how to cure it.

Fíli, son of Dís; heir of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the last King under the Mountain, sat next to the bed in which his younger brother lay. He had hardly noticed that he hadn't slept in days. His brother needed him. His mother needed him. He would not have her keel over by being the only other person looking after Kíli.

Kíli was his responsibility as well. That was why he stayed with him, regardless of the healers warning him of getting sick as well. The only thing they had told him that he listened to was covering his nose and mouth with a cloth whenever he visited Kíli, which was frequently.

Paying the proper respect to the kin of Durin, the healers tried to please Thorin by giving his youngest sister-son a private and spacious room. This was covering up for the fact that they could do nothing more for him than they could for anybody else.

The chills had begun to set in and Kíli was shaking like a leaf. Fíli wished that he could do more. He wished that he could take the pain away, that he could find some perfect cure and his brother would suddenly spring out of bed and would be able to keep down his food.

"Fíli?" he opened his eyes, which had a dewy glaze over them. His skin, which was usually bright and full of color, was as pale as a ghost and was always covered in either cold or hot sweats.

"Yeah, Kee?" Fíli spoke strongly through the cloth.

"I'm cold." Kíli's voice was barely that of a whisper and was thick with dryness. No matter how much he drank, he was always thirsty.

"I know, Kee."

"Sometimes I'm cold, and sometimes...it's like I'm on f-fire. What's happening to me, Fíli?"

"I don't want to lie to you. We don't know what's going on with you yet. But we will," he promised. "Whatever this is, we'll- I'll figure it out. I promise you, brother. I _will_ figure it out."

"...Will I die?" he asked suddenly. Even in this state, Kíli did not have a filter. It was actually a good sign. It meant that is spirit was intact.

"Of course not," Fíli replied without thought. He was not letting himself even exercise that possibility in his brain.

A coughing fit attacked Kíli and more chills wracked his frame with violent shivers. Fíli pulled the blanket further up his brother's body and tucked them under his chin. "Get some sleep, Kee. I'll figure it out."

"Okay, Fíli." Satisfied, Kíli drifted back off into sleep and the door opened.

Thorin stood in silence, smiling softly when he caught sight of his sleeping nephew. "He was always a restless sleeper," he said quietly, speaking more to himself, although he was addressing Fíli.

"In the winter, your mother would wrap him tightly in three thick blankets, and by the morning he would always find his way out of them. I have never seen him sleep motionlessly until this week."

"I noticed that, too," Fíli said grimly, pulling the cloth down to his neck.

"Have you slept at all?" Thorin asked.

"Some," he lied. "In any case, it does not matter. Kíli is more important."

"You are no use to him half-alive," his uncle stated impatiently, tapping his right foot.

"What if he _needs_ me?" Fíli countered. "What if he gets scared, and calls out for me, and I don't come to him down because my excuse is 'I was _sleeping_'?"

"Your mother can watch Kíli, if you agree to accompany me to a council meeting."

Fíli blinked in mild shock. "You have never let me attend any of those. You always said that it wasn't my place to get involved with things just yet."

"But things are getting involved with you, Fíli. Your brother is sick. This _is _your problem. I would you like to come with me."

He glanced at his brother and then looked back up at Thorin with desperate eyes. They were a pastel blue, same as his uncle's, same as his mother's. It was the only physical trait of his that was not similar to his father's.

And, ironically, one of the only physical traits that his father had given Kíli _was_ his eyes. Aside from that, and some said his smile, Kíli took after the Durin side like nobody could deny.

Sometimes this bothered Fíli. He was Thorin's heir, but he looked like his father, who had only been a commoner. He was not ashamed of that fact, only aware of it. "But what if-?"

"Do you think your mother incapable of taking care of him?"

"No."

"Then let her." Thorin motioned to the door. "Come with me, Fíli. Please."

It wasn't a word that his uncle used often. It wasn't a word that any dwarf used often. He nodded and sat up. With one last look at Kíli, he let his mother in the room. She pulled back her raven colored hair into a tight ponytail and smiled at her eldest son.

"You've done more than enough, sweetheart. He knows that. I appreciate your dedication." She looked to Thorin. "Both of your dedication."

"You do not have to appreciate it, Mother. It's my job as well."

Thorin nodded, agreeing with the statement. Dís took the seat that Fíli had previously occupied and smoothed the sweat-soaked hair of her youngest.

"Go ahead," she told them, needing this moment with her ill son.

With that, uncle and sister-son left the healing house to attend the council meeting. The oliphaunt in the room would undoubtedly be discussed: How to rid Ered Luin of the deadly fever.

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**It's shorter than the usual chapters, I know. I'm a horrible person. The other chapters I have written, and are currently editing, are longer.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I am overwhelmed by the amount of followers, it means a lot. I do not like to toot my own horn, (oh, brass player jokes) but I think this is the best chapter of the story so far.  
**

**Furthermore, I will not be able to update as steadily as usual, because at some point I do have to focus on my education, but I like this story too much to neglect it and will update in due time.**

**Now, let's get back to ****Fíli and all his angst. **

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At the start of the meeting, Fíli was silent. He didn't feel comfortable there. Most of time, in any situation, he hated being the youngest. It always made him feel that all eyes were on him, waiting for him to do something stupid. He usually didn't have this problem, as Kíli was always the youngest wherever he went. Now he was on his own, because he did not want his uncle to feel liable to babysit.

The council room he had entered was spacious and unbelievably bright. The floor was marble, the high ceiling was lit up by hundreds of lanterns hanging down in chains, giving the room an incredible sunny glow.

A glorious table made of ivory wood stood boldly in the room. In each of the ornate ivory wood chairs (which there were thirty of) sat a dwarf. The youngest, to his dismay, was Fíli, who had gotten more than just a few strange glances and remarks about his youth.

_"Still a dwarfling." _

_"Is he even 20 yet?"  
_

_"Maybe Thorin is tiring of his duties already and wants to give them to this lad."_

Fíli wanted to tell the nosy old dwarves that he was only 5 years away from his coming of age, and that he could do without their opinions on the matter, but he would only be going through the motions.

He had thought of nothing but Kíli since first leaving the healing house. There would be another time to prove himself to the aged councilors, who were nearly impossible to please by anyone in any situation.

Nirnar, the eldest councilor, who had graced Middle-earth with his presence for nearly 310 years, an unheard of age for a dwarf, spoke first. "46 sick, most of them dwarflings. No known cure, death in 2 out of 3 cases. Does anyone have _any_ idea of what our next move should be?"

He looked to Thorin, who always sat at the head of the table. Fíli was honored to be asked to sit on his uncle's right side, while the left side was occupied by Dwalin.

Technically, it was Dwalin who usually sat on the right side, but he had offered his seat to Fíli, saying that it would be good practice for him.

Many of the other councilors did not take well to Dwalin. Unlike his mild-mannered brother, he was loud, opinionated, and he most always propped his muddy boots up on the table. However, he was Thorin's most trusted and loyal friend, one that he wanted by his side whenever there were important matters to discuss.

Thorin cleared his throat and any side conversations died down immediately. "By a show of hands, who has a family member or wife ailing right now?"

Slowly, about half of the room raised their hands. Fíli did not bother to. Thorin looked around to the councilors, observing who was directly affected and who was not.

"Add two more hands for me and Fíli."

"Surely Dís is not sick?" Nirnar asked. "I do not think Mahal himself could bring her down." The others nodded in agreement. The day Dís, daughter of Thráin, granddaughter of Thrór was sick, was the day all of their beards fell off.

Thorin would have laughed, but there was no humor in where the fever had chosen to take out its aggression. "Dís is healthy."

"By all that is good," Balin spoke with surprise. "It cannot be the lad."

In all of the chaos, Thorin remembered that he had forgotten to tell Balin, and Dwalin had obviously respected the fact that it was Thorin's place whom to tell.

"Aye," Thorin answered grimly. "Kíli does suffer from the fever."

Balin sighed and more murmurs broke out in the council room. Fíli pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling a terrible headache, even though they were not loud at all.

"Merciless it is," Dwalin remarked. "The lad is not but 30 years old."

Delseg, a young, raven-haired dwarf spoke. "Is it true that Glóin's wee lad, Gimli, ails as well? A dwarfling of _15_?"

"Aye," Balin confirmed, when his thoughts moved to his first cousin, once-removed. He was showing resilience, because he was a stubborn little thing, but Balin feared for his kin.

Delseg spoke again, always one for talking over others. "It is terrible! My own sister is sick as well. She lies shivering on a bed while nothing is done." With that, he pinned his eyes to Thorin.

"Are you implying my involvement?" Thorin asked patiently, an amused glint in his blue eyes.

"I am implying your _dis_-involvement," Delseg replied and Fíli narrowed his eyes. He knew that his uncle was doing all he could because, not only did he have to deal with the sickness, his own kin lay stricken with it as well.

"I talk to the healers everyday," Thorin tried to appease the bitter councilor. "They have nothing new to tell me, therefore I have nothing new to tell you."

Talna, the first female councilor since Náin II's time spoke. "Then why are we here?"

Fíli respected the fact that she had to be extremely strong-willed and intelligent to earn a spot on the council, but he did not have to like her.

She was a crabby and rude dwarf, taking her frustrations out on everyone since her husband had run off with someone from the Iron Hills. That was over 50 years ago. She had a hard time letting things go.

"Because I think it is time that we alert other lands," Thorin said. "We clearly cannot handle this. We need to find someone who can. I have sent scouts to try and find the best raw medicine that they can, things we do not have in our own land. However, I fear that without the wisdom of the people who know these medicines, they may be useless. We must reach out."

Talna wrinkled her nose and stroked her short brown beard. "Do you have the free folk in mind, or someone _different_?"

"Different?" Balin asked innocently.

"People that we do not want to associate with," Delseg cut in. "I want to call on people who would be most helpful to our situation."

"Does it matter?" Fíli piped up for the first time and all eyes fell on him. Many of them were shocked and irritated at a dwarfling getting his opinion in. Thorin's eyes were inscrutable as he waited for his nephew to continue.

Fíli continued when Dwalin winked at him, urging him to disagree if he wanted to. He did more than enable confrontations, he encouraged them. "If anyone can help, does it matter who they are? The free folk may not be so eager to help us, as many of them can barely help themselves. Is it not wise to ask a wealthier land?"

"Speak plainly, young lord," Nirnar said.

"What people are known far and wide for their medicine?"

It was only a small and quiet suggestion, but it started a whirlwind of shouts and objections.

_"I will have no elf come to these lands!"_

_"They are treacherous!"_

_"Foolish!"_

_"They will not help us!"_

_"I would not trust an elf as far as I could throw one!"_

_"How dare you implicate elves!"_

"Enough!" Thorin bellowed and stood and the room fell silent again. Sitting back down, he addressed Fíli. "Not up for discussion, Fíli. No elves."

"But Thorin-!"

"Not up for discussion," he repeated.

Fíli would not drop the matter. He was not overly-fond of elves, but he would set aside that prejudice because they were the best healers of Middle-earth. It was the best chance he could give Kíli and the others. He would not be swayed otherwise.

He stood. "What do you think will happen if we call upon some other race? They will get here, be able to do nothing, and we will be stuck in the same situation. Meanwhile, more will be infected and a great deal more could die!"

Nirnar looked like he was going to speak, but Fíli snapped at him.

"Does it _sound_ like I'm done?!"

Dwalin let out a hearty laugh as others gasped in shock. "More could die like _your _first cousin once-removed," Fíli pointed at Dwalin and Balin, "_your_ sister," he pointed at Delseg, "_your_ grandson," he pointed at Nirnar, then he pointed at Thorin, "and _your _sister-son who just so happens to be _my_ little brother! And this is 'not up for discussion' to any of you?!"

Fíli did not know how to stop. Once he started releasing his anger and frustration about Kíli's fever, he did not think he could ever reel it back. "Are we so blind with hatred that our kin will die for it? If that is the case, then we are both moronic _and_ cruel!"

Before anyone could speak, not that they would have a suitable argument, a young dwarf burst through the door and rushed to Thorin.

Speaking with heavy breaths, he handed a parchment to him.

"What is it?" Thorin asked.

"I bring news, My Lord. Dáin Ironfoot rides for Ered Luin."

* * *

**Yes, ****Dáin does have an important role in this tale. Please tell me what you think of it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Wow! I am overwhelmed at the response to the latest chapter. It really means a lot. As I've mentioned, ****Dáin will have a part to play, although if you haven't figured it out, this is a ****Fíli-centric story. Anywho, tell me what you think please and enjoy.**

* * *

Fíli's walk back to the healing house with his uncle was just as awkward as he had anticipated it to be. After the message of Dáin coming to Ered Luin, Thorin had looked like he was going to explode with rage and he dismissed the meeting. There was still no decision made about who to contact for help and his uncle had promised everyone that they would resume the topic soon.

After Fíli's outburst, no one had mentioned elves either.

_What has gotten into me?_ Fíli thought miserably. He had never openly defied his uncle like that before and he normally would not have dreamed about shouting at the councilors like he had, dwarves who were much older and wiser than him. He had practically insulted his uncle directly and he did not know why. It had barely taken him five minutes before he was out of his chair and pointing fingers.

His uncle took pride in the fact that he was the ideal heir; obedient, collected, and most importantly, respectful. What was so different now? Why was he suddenly so angry, so difficult? He usually left that kind of frustrating behavior for...

_Whatever the reason is, it does not matter, _he concluded. Thorin was probably furious with him. Not only had he shamed him during his first council meeting, but he had done it in front of others, people who were supposed to look up to his uncle. _How can I ever make this up to him?_

As they walked, a soft drizzle of rain bounced off of them. It was fairly cold for an autumn night and the threat of winter was looming like a terrible black cloud. Fíli broke the peaceful pitter-patter of the droplets hitting the ground and spoke. "Uncle, I-"

Thorin put up his hand and immediately silenced his nephew. "I do not want to speak of this right now. There are deeper matters to discuss than that temper-tantrum of yours."

Fíli nodded his head in agreement and decided that it was probably a bad idea to tell his uncle that his opinion on asking the Elves for help had not changed. He knew that his uncle would do anything to help Kíli and that eventually he would come around if push came to shove.

Maybe the arrival of Dáin would make that conversation obsolete, maybe that was why he was riding for Ered Luin, although it seemed awfully soon for word to travel to the Iron Hills. And who would tell the Iron Hills in the first place? Fíli had many questions, but he was fearful of heckling his uncle about them, who was clearly not in the mood.

Fíli decided not to ask if the arrival of Dáin was a good or bad thing, but Thorin brought it up anyway. "I was hesitant about asking Dáin for help," he said quietly. "It's complicated, but he and I are not on the friendliest of terms. I do not know why he his here, but he was not summoned. When he arrives, we may have to fill him in entirely about what's been going on. Do you remember Dáin?"

Fíli searched his mind. "Vaguely."

"You're lucky. He's not the easiest dwarf you will come across. Things are never what they seem with him." When Thorin was done speaking, the rest of the walk was silent. They reached the healing house and headed to Kíli's room, like they normally would have. When they got a moment alone, Fíli would be anxious to tell his brother all about the council meeting, knowing that he would praise him for speaking out.

Kíli was never blatantly disrespectful, but he did not favor most of the councilors. He did not like the way they treated his uncle, the way they occasionally whispered about the former kings of Erebor.

As they walked, a young healer with red hair announced, "Someone is already in there with him."

"His mother will not mind," Thorin stated.

"His mother retreated for the night. Someone else is in there."

Fíli and Thorin exchanged confused glances.

"Who?" Thorin asked suddenly.

The healer shrugged, not seeing any problem. "Says he's an uncle or something."

Thorin pushed the healer aside with a hard shove and rushed into the room, his nephew at his heals.

They stopped in the doorway when they saw a dwarf standing by the bed, his hand stroking a sleeping Kíli's forehead. Fíli felt for the small blade in his sleeve, for reassurance.

The dwarf had a rather rugged look about him, but he was dressed in fine clothing. His long brown beard was disturbed by no gray, neither was his hair that came down to his back. Hard gray eyes stared down a long nose as he caught sight of Thorin and Fíli.

Dáin dropped his hand and smiled faintly. "Hello, Thorin."

That was all he managed to say before Thorin lunged and had him pinned to the wall.

"Thorin!" Fíli shouted, trying his best to avoid a conflict, but he was too late. The hand that Thorin had on Dáin's collarbone was soon shaken off as Dáin shoved him back a few feet. The two engaged in a battle of swift strikes, before they split momentarily to catch their breath.

"What in the name of Mahal are you doing in his room?!" Thorin roared, finger pointed straight at his cousin.

He lunged again, but two dwarves came in the room, hearing the commotion, and one caught his right arm, which he was brandishing in the air as he continued to shout at Dáin.

One of them was Bofur. "Relax, Thorin!" he begged. "It's your kin!"

The other dwarf was the healer who had known of Dáin's arrival and did not think it was anything to be concerned about. He tried to grab Thorin's other arm when Fíli turned to him, hand gripping the collar of his tunic.

"If you cannot control who comes into my brother's room, then I want you to leave," Fíli stated in a tone that meant the topic was not up for discussion. The healer nodded and left, leaving Thorin Oakenshield to conduct his own affairs. The dwarf knew his place better than to tell him whom he could and could not attack.

Thorin shoved Bofur off and Fíli was about to get involved when a voice broke the pandemonium.

"Uncle?"

Kíli muttered in confusion and tried his best to prop himself up on his elbows. He took one look at Dáin, someone that Fíli knew his brother would not remember, then at Thorin, who had a small cut on his lip after his scuffle with his cousin, and widened his dark eyes for an explanation.

Fíli rushed over and took one of Kíli's hands in his own; at that point he could not have cared less about the fever spreading.

"Kíli, look at me," he said hurriedly. "Are you okay, are you hurt?"

"I'm fi-"

"Is he _hurt_?" Dáin hissed. "Do you think me capable?"

Fíli stood, a fire in his heart prompted him to stand face to face with the older dwarf; completely prepared, completely willing to do anything to protect his brother. "I haven't the slightest idea what you are capable of. I do not know you. What I _do _know is that I do not like distant relatives showing up and sneaking into my little brother's room, my brother that is too ill to defend himself!"

"I-"

"When I ask him if he is hurt, you _shut it_ until I am positive that he is okay. Am I clear?"

Dáin stood utterly abashed, not expecting that reaction from Thorin or Fíli at all.

Thorin supported his eldest nephew and stood next to him, a shield between Kíli and his cousin.

"Explain yourself," he demanded.

"Fetch Dís and I will tell you everything you want to know. I have not seen her in years."

"Dáin?" Kíli asked incredulously, suddenly putting the pieces together.

"Good to see you again, nephew."

"Uncle Thorin, why did you-? What's going o-?" Kíli suddenly put the palm of his hand to his forehead and let out a groan, a terrible headache forcing him to collapse back onto his pillow and cough helplessly.

"Kíli..." Fíli came back to the bed, scolding his brother for exerting himself. He took a cup of water from a nearby stand and assisted the bed-rested dwarfling in drinking a few sips. "Lie back down," he commanded softly and Kíli obeyed. "We can handle this."

"I will not do this here," Thorin told his cousin. "My nephew needs his rest. We will pay a visit to Dís. Bofur?"

"Yes?" the dwarf asked, thankful to have a task to do.

"Would you watch Kíli?"

"Of course."

"Let no one in that does not...belong."

Dáin raised his eyebrows and scoffed as Thorin's last comment was aimed at him.

"I understand," Bofur assured him.

Fíli stood by the doorway and motioned to Dáin. "You first."

Dáin did as he was instructed and left. Thorin bent over and placed a kiss on Kíli's forehead.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

Kíli nodded. "What is Dáin doing here?" he asked softly. He was beginning to grow weary again and Thorin shook his head.

"It does not matter right now. I'll visit soon."

He left with Fíli and immediately the concern he had for Kíli melted into the anger he felt at Dáin. He wanted answers. He wouldn't give his third cousin quite the warm welcome that he expected. If Dáin could not help with their fever, then Dáin was no help at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the late(ish) update. School has been getting in the way (Accursed education!) and I needed to find my head. Once again, I love the support. I am really happy with the amount of followers-even though there's almost 50 of you and you could review-but I am getting off topic.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, but I should warn you that I am stuck on the next one. The dreaded writer's block has begun.**

* * *

Fíli, son of Dís; heir of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the last King under the Mountain, was, at this point, all too familiar with awkward silences.

Dáin was insistent on seeing Dís to explain himself.

Thorin was insistent on having Dáin explain himself when he was not in the presence of Kíli. Fíli still did not fully understand his uncle's attack on the other dwarf.

It was odd, yes, that Dáin had gone straight to Kíli's room before talking or seeing anyone else. It was strange that he had been perching over the his brother's bed like a hawk over a field mouse.

It was strange, Fíli knew this, but his brother was fine, not harmed by this person in any way. Perhaps he had over-reacted. After all, Dáin was his uncle, he was kin. Kin that he did not often see, but Fíli was not the kind of dwarf to immediately think the worse of family.

_Things are never what they seem with him. _His uncle's stern voice rang in his head, and Fíli concluded that he should be cautious of Dáin, but not purposefully cruel.

It was apparent that Thorin did not care. The first thing that his uncle had done upon seeing Dáin was attack him. There was bad blood, anyone could see that, but whatever this was about, Fíli hoped that it could have some sort of solution to stopping the fever.

They were running out of time, Kíli was running out of time. He had first come home and collapsed three days ago. Three weeks was the average lifespan of the dwarves who ended up dying from the fever. Of course, there was always the chance that Kíli could pull through on his own, but that was a slim chance, a chance that Fíli could not take.

His brother had two and a half weeks left if the worst were true. He did not doubt Kíli's strength, but he also did not doubt the strength of the fever. He had to figure it out, not only for Kíli, but for everyone.

They were his people, and although he was far from a king yet, Fíli felt a need to protect them, a need to make their suffering his suffering.

He knew that they had not yet made a decision on whom to call upon, and he knew that they had sent scouts to try and find medicine, but Fíli always had the feeling that they were not doing enough.

How could they have time for a house visit to his mother? He just hoped to Mahal that the arrival of Dáin would be relevant to their situation.

Fíli had been so caught up in his thoughts, that before he knew it, they were at his home. The two story brick building suddenly seemed very welcoming. He had not noticed or appreciated before just how handsome the house was. Even in the middle of a rainy night, one or two lamps in the home made it glow like a single, unwavering candle.

He longed to open the stained red door with its pure silver handle, because he longed for his own bed. He needed sleep, he knew that, but he could not slow down. He was beginning to realize that he could not just listen to his uncle's opinions on everything. He wanted to know why Dáin was here, and he wanted to make his own opinion on his...uncle.

Thorin opened the door-his mother must have forgotten to lock it-and the three stepped in. She was sitting at the supper table, a large wooden mug before her. She didn't look up, didn't seem to care who came in the door.

Gripping the mug, her sheer blue eyes drifted off into space, a terribly exhausted look was all about her. She was dressed for bed, but it looked as though she had gotten no sleep. She ran a hand over the small black sideburns that were on her cheeks when she noticed the three who had come in.

Thorin and Fíli were old news, but Dáin? Ordinarily she might have jumped up to meet him, asking all these questions about why he was such a stranger, but she settled for a sharp eyebrow raise.

"Dáin," she said, only slightly involved in the visit. "Good to see you."

Without permission, he took a seat across from her and took the mug that she was clutching. Without having to sniff, he knew that it was ale of a significant strength.

"Is that wise?" he asked.

"Do I care?" she shot back. "My youngest son is lying in a bed, weak and wasting away. I am his mother. I am supposed to have some kind of remedy to make all of his pain go away, but I do not. I cannot tell him when he is going to get better, because I do not know if he _is_ going to get better. Do you think that I am deserving of alcohol in this situation?"

Dáin nodded and Fíli snatched the mug from him and dumped the remainder of the liquid in a potted plant. He and Thorin sat as well.

"Mother," Fíli began cautiously. "You cannot give up just yet. There is hope for Kíli. You know he will fight until the end, but he needs you strong as well. Please get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when I want to sleep," she declared and Thorin tried next.

"Are you at all curious as to know what Dáin is doing here?"

She shrugged. "I guess that is useful information."

Both Thorin and Fíli looked to Dáin, expecting the full explanation that he had promised. All eyes on him, he tried to speak smoothly. "Where do I begin?"

"The beginning," Thorin spat. "How and why are you here? How do you know about our problem when I sent no one to inform you?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that I were here by chance and I just so happened to stumble into your situation?"

"No."

"Fine," Dáin replied. "But that's the truth. I have not seen a fever this aggressive before. I want to do what I can."

"How did you get into my brother's room?" Fíli's question suddenly brought Dís back into the conversation.

"He was in Kíli's room? When?"

"Just after you left, I think," Dáin admitted.

"But _why?_" Thorin demanded. "How did you know that Kíli was sick, and why did you choose to visit him in the manner which you did?"

"When I arrived here, some of the townsfolk recognized me and began to ask if I were here because of the fever. I then asked 'what fever?' and the rest escalated from there. They filled me in on everything. One of them had let it slip that young Kíli was sick and, call me crazy, I wanted to see if he was okay."

"And all of that out of the goodness of your heart?" Thorin snorted. "You have not even seen him beyond the age of a toddler."

"He's grown considerably," Dáin commented. "He's a handsome one, isn't he? He has strong features like his Durin ancestors, but I heard that he has a smile all his father's."

Dís pinched the bridge of her nose.

"This is all just lovely," Fíli said dismissively. "Why...were...you...in...his...room?"

"Like I said, for a visit," Dáin replied. "And it's a good thing that I had."

"Why?" Thorin asked.

"He was having some sort of nightmare, thrashing about in his bed like a frightened animal. I was afraid that he would tear his hair out."

Fíli felt a ping in his stomach. A nightmare. Hadn't he been worried about that? He could not help as his eyes drifted accusingly to Thorin.

"And, you helped how?" Thorin asked.

"I gave him something to help him sleep soundly. Something I use when I need sleep while I'm traveling. It helped in an instant."

"Didn't seem to help for too long," Fíli sneered.

"You can thank your uncle for that," Dáin pointed out and Thorin emitted a low growl. "I admit that what you saw must've been a bit strange, but was it necessary to get physical?"

Thorin stared. "Perhaps I over-reacted."

"And I may have as well," Fíli admitted. "You did my brother a favor, I should be thanking you."

Dáin smiled, satisfied. "I do not think he gets those manners from you, Thorin."

"Can you help us?" Thorin suddenly asked.

"I have brought my own personal healer with me. He is the one that I trust with myself and my family. I could have him take a look at Kíli."

"Have him look at all of the sick," Thorin answered. "Would you like to accompany us to a council meeting tomorrow? We have no more time to waste."

Fíli perked up in his chair. _Us_. Did his uncle still want him there?

"Yes, I said us," Thorin confirmed. "You have a right to be there, Fíli. Can I trust you to stay calm, to only speak if I ask you to?"

In spite of himself, Fíli agreed. He would rather hear what was going to happen personally. It affected him more deeply than half of those councilors could imagine.

"Very well then. Dáin?"

"I will go with you."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Despite this update, I am still swamped with schoolwork and I am officially out of pre-written chapters. However, because of the support and fuzzy feeling that you guys give me, I will really try to get crackin' soon. Please bear with me, I promise I like this one too much to drop it.**

**Here we go! The identity of the fever! Dun, dun, dunnnnnnn!  
**

**Reviews= Helping the healing process of my extracted teeth.**

* * *

Fíli was not looking forward to another council meeting, but at the same time he was. He was grateful that Thorin had asked him to go again, but he was not expecting such a warm welcome from the other councilors. Dwalin had offered Fíli one of his axes if he needed it, but the young dwarf decided that it was best for him to take the heat for his actions and deal with it. _Good kings deal with their problems.  
_

Fíli was ready to offer the seat to the right of Thorin to Dáin, but the older dwarf didn't sit down until Fíli seated himself next to his uncle. As Fíli had expected, there were many whispers among the councilors, that seemed to have nothing better to do than gossip.

_"How foolish of Thorin, to let that disrespectful brat back in here."_

_"As long as he keeps quiet..."_

_"Is that Dáin Ironfoot?"_

Fíli shook it off, all of it. He did not care what they thought of him and he did not care if they wanted Dáin there or not. It was not their decision to make, it was Thorin's. Dwalin sat to his uncle's left, with his brother Balin at his right, and shot glares until the comments stopped.

Thorin nodded a thank you to his friend and stood. "I am not in the mood to drag this out. Yes, that is Dáin Ironfoot to my right. Yes, he is here to help us. This is actually not a meeting, as I have already made my decision."

"Is it as wise of a decision as letting your garrulous nephew back into a meeting?" Delseg asked boldly.

_Garrulous__? _Fíli thought. That was the first time someone had called him garrulous as opposed to Kíli.

Thorin laughed. "Is there something that we need to talk about?"

"If one of us talked as boldly as he did, we would be out of here more quickly than we could say Mahal. He gets special treatment because he is your nephew."

"Boldly?" Thorin asked with a smirk. "Kind of like the way you are speaking now?"

Delseg fell silent and Thorin continued. "Do you want me to treat him like everybody else? Because that would be counter-productive, I should remind you that he _is _special. He is my heir. He will eventually be the one running these meetings. Those of you who will be alive in that time should do well to treat him courteously. He may not be as forgiving as I can be."

No one spoke, but Fíli smiled to himself. His uncle was right beside him; even he did something reckless.

"Dáin has brought a healer with him, one who is supposed to be the best healer in the Iron Hills. As we speak he is examining the ill, trying to find what makes the fever tick. With any luck, he will find something that can cure it."

"Have any returned with medicine?" Nirnar asked.

"Aye, they have returned," Thorin confirmed and then sighed. "But they have found nothing that can help us."

"And we trust this healer because of whom, if I may ask?" Delseg spoke, this time much more softly.

Dáin stood. "Me." All turned to him. Fíli was ready to listen intently, eager to find out of the kind of person his relative was. "This is a healer that serves my family personally, my wife and my son. We had a similar strain of fever in the Iron Hills, I believe. It was his father that found a cure many years ago. Jorn is the greatest healer that can help Ered Luin."

"The greatest _dwarf _healer," Fíli muttered to himself. He was immediately becoming antsy. He wanted to meet this 'Jorn' character, to see if he really were the best option for his brother. Luckily for him, the meeting came to a close shortly after that.

* * *

"It is an honor to meet you Fíli. I am Jorn." The auburn-haired dwarf offered his hand to the heir of Durin with a respectful and strong smile. He was armed with a thin, hooked nose and tawny eyes. His beard was put into one braid and came halfway down his chest.

They stood outside of Kíli's room, door closed so the dwarfling could get some rest. Fíli took it and nodded his appreciation. Soon Thorin appeared at his side and did not bother with greetings. "Do you have an answer?" He was never the most polite dwarf, but his patience was wearing too thinly to worry about courtesies. Furthermore, Jorn seemed like the kind of person who could understand.

"I just may," he answered. Although it should have been news to smile about, he spoke rather too grimly for Thorin's liking.

"Cut the niceties," Thorin instructed.

"I believe this is the same fever my father faced years ago, appropriately named the Iron Plague."

"But," Fíli mused. "Wasn't that not nearly as widespread as this?"

Jorn nodded. "I believe there is an explanation for that as well. I have spoken to many dwarves, some relatives of the...deceased and I have noticed a disturbing pattern. Those who have passed, mostly the children, had had a previous sickness as a small child. That sickness had...weakened them, made them more susceptible to experiencing the Iron Plague's full wrath."

"But not all of them have had the previous ailment that you speak of, right?" Thorin asked.

"Not all of them, no," Jorn admitted. "But after speaking with many about previous medical histories, the majority of your sick have."

"So, what does this mean?" Fíli asked eagerly.

Jorn shook his head. "Those who have not had the previous sickness at a younger age, could pull through. I have heard that many of the small children died of this fever regardless, being too young to have had it years ago. It seems that generally the older they are, or the stronger, they have a chance of pulling through as the ones in the Iron Hills did, because without the previous sickness the Iron Plague is simply a fever. A sometimes fatal one, yes, but manageable. But-" he sighed and covered his mouth.

"Jorn," Thorin warned. "I need your honesty with this."

"All; not some, not most, but all who have had the previous sickness will die of the Iron Plague. If we do not find a treatment, that much is certain."

Thorin put a hand to his forehead. "By Mahal..."

"Wait," Fíli interrupted. "This 'previous sickness' that you speak of; was it common, did it have a name?"

"...The Red Crawl."

Thorin immediately saw tears well up in the eyes of his eldest nephew. Tears, for the first time in he could not remember how long. Even through the whole ordeal, Fíli had remained stoic, had kept his composure for his mother and brother. The fact that his emotions were flowing freely now was not a good sign.

Fíli shook his head, muttering a few barely coherent 'no's' as he staggered and leaned up against the wall, which seemed to be the only thing keeping him on his feet.

Thorin turned to him and gripped his shoulders. "Fíli, what is it?" he demanded.

"No," Fíli replied, his eyes a dazed blue as he stared at the floor. "Nononononono."

Thorin shook him. "Fíli, what?"

Fíli clasped both of his hands tightly over his mouth, let a few more tears drop, then removed his hands and said in a whisper, "Kíli had the Red Crawl as a child."

As Thorin stood dumbfounded, Fíli took that opportunity to wriggle out of his uncle's grip and he bolted down the hall; out of the building, out into the rainy night, and he continued to run, leaving all behind.

He ran until he gripped the trunk of a nearby oak, turned his back to lean against the tree, and slid down to a sitting position. He brought his shaking knees to his chest and hugged them miserably. _All; not some, not most, but all who have had the previous sickness will die of the Iron Plague. If we do not find a treatment, that much is certain. _

That was it, that was the verdict and there was no way around it. From the tone of Jorn's voice, Fíli knew that he did not have a treatment yet. Kíli was doomed. He did have the Red Crawl. It had been years ago, many years ago, but it did not matter. Fíli remembered it all the same.

* * *

25 years earlier...

_Young __Fíli listened in confusion as his father's voice bellowed from the other room._

_'Why would Father want to yell at __Óin?' he thought. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but his mother had instructed him to stay in his room, so he did just that.  
_

_Curiosity winning over, ____Fíli_ cracked his door open when he heard his father emerge from _Kíli's room and out into the family room. The young, blond-haired dwarf ran a hand over his beard and then shouted in frustration and desperation. ____Fíli_ jumped at the volume, but tried his best to stay quiet. He could find out what would happen to Kee just by watching his father.  


_After shouting, his father's right hand suddenly shot out and smashed into the stone wall of the room. Hearing the crack of knuckles, ____Fíli_ knew that he was using full force. His father punched the wall again, then again, then again, the rhythmic pounding something ___Fíli_ heard even over the blood pounding in his own ears as he watched the scene in trepidation.

_When he finally stopped, the hand that was drawn back was shaking and crooked, but most of all bloody. The stone of the wall was stained a fresh red as the older dwarf cradled his hand to his chest._

_Soon his mother came out and fretted, frantically retrieving a cloth to try and treat the newly mangled hand._

___Fíli_ doubted that his father felt any physical pain, only the pain that came with the news of the condition of his youngest son.

* * *

A few hours later, Fíli returned, spoke to no one, and immediately headed to his brother's room. Kíli was awake already and smiled when he caught sight of his big brother.

Fíli stifled his own tears back moments ago, Kíli didn't need to see him cry. Sitting in his usual seat by the bed, he asked, "How are you feeling, champ?"

Kíli shrugged dismissively, trying to remain aloof and indifferent. "Ehh," he replied in a hoarse but casual voice.

"I'm serious."

"No better, no worse," Kíli lied.

"Kee?"

"Yeah?"

"Jorn hasn't seen you lately has he? Or Uncle?"

"Uncle Thorin just did like a half hour ago. Why?"

"What did you talk about?" Fíli quickly asked.

"Nothing much, just how I was doing."

Fíli sighed in relief. It seemed that they were keeping his brother in the dark about his fate, it wasn't time to hear that yet.

"You okay, brother?" Kíli asked, trying to conceal a chill that shook his core.

Fíli did not miss it and felt his brother's forehead. Not satisfied with the temperature, he put another cold compress to his forehead.

"I'm cold," Kíli whined weakly.

"No, you're on fire," Fíli protested immediately. "You just don't know it."

Kíli's dark eyes widened and drifted to his brother. He gasped softly. "Your hand, Fee."

Fíli looked down at the bandages he had wrapped around his right hand and gave a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. I just banged it on something."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I've suddenly just realized that I haven't updated in a fair amount of time. My mouth feels almost perfect and once again, I appreciate all of the love this story is receiving. The more I get, the more I write! It's fantastic.**

**As always, I hope you enjoy and tell me what you think.**

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Kíli's condition was worsening. It had been five days since the first time he collapsed at the house. He was getting closer and closer to his last two weeks. The number of sick had now increased to 65: 44 children and 21 adults.

That was not counting the 17 who had already perished. As if things could not have been worse for Thorin Oakenshield's sister-son, 12 out of the 17 had had the Red Crawl in their youth; the other five were small children or the elderly, those too weak to fight off the Iron Plague regardless.

Kíli was sleeping for more than half of each day. Fíli had asked Jorn what the sign was that one who had had the Red Crawl was coming to an end. Jorn had told him to look for blood. The Red Crawl was appropriately named because it used to cause bleeding from the eyes, nose, or mouth. Once that happened, death would usually come within three more days.

Fíli had also asked why Jorn did not have a full treatment for the Iron Plague, if his father had been the one to stop it in the Iron Hills years ago. Jorn had then explained that the previous cure, once he deciphered it from his father's notes, should pull them through, except he was unsure of what it would do for someone who had had the Red Crawl. It may or may not have worked, and Jorn did not know which way to turn.

This bothered Fíli. He wanted to trust Jorn, but that treatment, once figured out, had never been used on someone who had previously had the Red Crawl. He was very glad that this was good news for Gimli and the others who had never had it, but things closest to _him_ were falling apart.

He could do nothing for Kíli. He was the big brother, it was his job to make sure Kíli was safe and happy. All he could do was watch him sleep, cough, and retch his way to his fate.

Fíli heard the door open, but didn't bother to care who it was. Then Dáin came into his view, pulled up another chair beside him and sat in silence. Fíli did not even turn his head in the older dwarf's direction.

"Fíli, I know that you do not have much cause to trust me," Dáin began. "But Jorn is working on the treatment right now. If it can be done, he can do it. I trust him with everything important to me. He has pulled my own son through more fevers than I can count."

"Anything as bad as this?" Fíli asked as he pinned his light blue eyes to Dáin.

He shook his head. "No. We've never even had the Red Crawl in the Iron Hills. It seems to be a sickness solely based in Ered Luin. How did those pull through, those who had in years ago?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't really remember," Fíli admitted. "I don't think we ever found a treatment for it. Some died..." he motioned to Kíli. "And some didn't."

"And when your brother had the Red Crawl, how old was he?"

"Five, I believe." Fíli put his head down to speak more quietly. "I haven't thought about it at all until now. It was such a distant memory, one that I blocked out years ago, one that my mother never wanted to think of again." He raised his voice a little, as if starting a new conversation and continued.

"And then last night I had to tell her that the sickness Kíli suffered from and almost lost his life to is now getting the last laugh anyway. Funny how things work out, right? He pulls through a sickness when he could barely say a few sentences. Now he's older, stronger, and bull-headed and this has him bed-ridden and helpless."

"Helpless does not seem like a quality of this young dwarf," Dáin snapped.

"I can't help him, Thorin can't help him, you can't help him, not even my mother can help him. Is that not helpless?" Fíli asked wearily.

"Jorn can help him," he rejoined.

"You believe that if you want to," Fíli said somberly. "What do you think you're doing here, Dáin?" he asked, not caring if his voice sounded a bit accusing. "Your healer can do nothing more than give death sentences. It's obvious that Thorin doesn't want anything to do with you right now and you're a stranger to everyone else."

Dáin blinked. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

Fíli shrugged. "It's been said."

"What happened to the hand?" Dáin asked, testing the waters with the young dwarf. He had no idea what would set him off, what would cause Fíli to tell him to leave.

"It's a little something I learned from my father," Fíli answered. "I might not remember everything about the Red Crawl, but I do remember how it made him beat his hand bloody on the wall, the night Óin said Kíli may not have pulled through. I don't think Thorin was there, actually I think he was in the Iron Hills. 25 years ago, am I correct?"

Dáin nodded. "Yes, I believe you are. It was the week of my son's third birthday and Thorin came for a visit to see his _nephew _Thorin. We were closer then. He was honored when my wife asked if my son could bear his name."

Fíli gave a small smile. "I don't think I've ever met your son before. How old is he now, 29?"

"Not for a few more months," Dáin answered. "A little younger than Kíli. I thought about bringing him here with me, maybe to get you lads to bond while I fixed things with Thorin." He nodded to Kíli's sleeping and shaking form. "It's a good thing that I didn't."

Fíli shook his head grimly and Dáin tried for some humor. "I don't think you'd care much for my son. He's terribly difficult."

Fíli laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't know the type, would I?"

"I suppose you're right. Thorin is not the kind of difficult that your brother is. He's introverted, reserved. I can hardly tell what he's thinking about anymore."

"No, that's not Kee at all," Fíli confirmed. "You know, it's funny. When we were little, we started calling each other Fee and Kee, thinking that our names were pronounced _Fee_li and _Kee_li. It wasn't until we were older that we realized the accents were there for a reason."

"Yet, you still use Fee and Kee?" Dáin asked.

"Why change it now?" Fíli asked. "It might have been a stupid mistake in our childhood, saying our own names slightly incorrectly, but it was something we shared together."

"I was an only child," Dáin said.

Fíli mused. "That's quite lonely. So Thorin, your son, why do you feel distant from him?"

"I don't. Maybe he's just at the stage in his life when he's not allowed to think his father knows best for him. Ever had a similar time with your father at that age?" Dáin immediately regretted asking something so stupid and tried to apologize.

Fíli put his hand up. "Don't worry about it. I don't have time to dance around the truth anymore. My father is dead, he's been dead for many years."

That made Dáin silent.

"I don't seem to remember thinking about Uncle Thorin like that, however," Fíli answered, attempting the lighten the mood. "Although, I do think Kíli has hit that stage."

"With Thorin?"

"It could be because he's so much like our father. He and my uncle didn't always see eye to eye. I'm sure you can relate to that."

Dáin shifted his gray eyes away from the conversation, but Fíli was too interested. "So, _uncle_, what happened with you two anyway? Were you not close?"

He nodded. "We were, but the death of his brother, Frerin, tested a lot of his bonds. _They_ were close, close like you and your brother. That put a crack between us, but what shattered us? I don't think either one can remember. Your uncle has been through quite a lot, as has your mother. Maybe he just doesn't have time for me anymore."

"Thorin is not as cruel as you may think. You just came at an inopportune moment. If Jorn finds a cure, if Kíli pulls through and all that I want works out, maybe there will be time to save your relationship."

"You're optimistic, young Fíli. I cannot tell if that is a good or bad quality for a king."

"I'd rather not talk about that." Fíli was not ready to think about his future as heir to Erebor. It seemed like such an impossible thing, seeing as how a dragon was currently taking up residence there, but the way Thorin spoke of it...it was almost like he knew something.

"Why?" the older dwarf asked suddenly. "Do you feel pressure already? Bending under it as your uncle keeps adding more?"

Fíli raised his eyebrows. _That was rather sudden. _"Pardon?"

"I do not like to dance around the truth, either. I'm not sure you can be a king, Fíli. I do not want to hurt you, I just want to make sure that you're happy with whatever you do in life."

The younger dwarf narrowed his eyes. "That's awfully kind of you, _Dáin_. If you do not mind, may I ask you to leave?" he asked acridly.

"Why? No one has ever said these things to you? Thorin told you that if you acted like a younger version of himself, then you would be a good king? It's not as easy as that, young Fíli. You're a smart enough lad to figure that out, I think."

"Tell me," Fili said with a smooth smirk. "Do you always have a hidden agenda? My uncle was right to warn me of you. I do not know what your angle is, but I want you to leave."

"Is this a request from my future king?" he scoffed.

"An order, actually."

Dáin stood, and placed his hands on Fíli's shoulder's, squeezing them just hard enough to make the younger dwarf uncomfortable. "Do I frighten you?" he asked softly.

"The only reason that I haven't attacked you like my uncle did is because my brother needs no more of this," he answered confidently. There was no shake in his voice, no cracks, only determination. "If you'd remove your hands, please."

The hands dropped and Dáin gave a phony bow, mocking Fili as he said, "As my king commands." Before he was completely out of the room, Fíli called after him.

"Dáin?"

He didn't respond.

"If you ever come in here again without my knowledge...I'll kill you."

* * *

**Creepy? I hope so.**


End file.
